


Violence and Variations I

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, Breathplay, D/s, Exhibitionism, F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:51:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fashionably late fill for the 2011 Femslash Kink Meme. See tags for summary? Herein you'll find <i>Kahlan topping Cara</i>, but, just for kicks, there's an alternate and mostly identical version <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/245493">here</a> wherein the opposite is true if you prefer that!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violence and Variations I

**Author's Note:**

> My porn keeps getting dirtier, idk. I guess I'm waiting for someone to yell at me in all caps that I've scarred or scandalized them. Until then!
> 
> Title from Bear McCreary's BSG:S3 score.

It is, altogether, not an uncommon event in Cara’s life. Hardly a strange and new sensory experience. Someone has her bent over an exquisite dining table and is fucking her fiercely. She feels a warm palm on the small of her back, pressing her down. Somehow she knows it’s Kahlan’s hand, knows that Kahlan has a pure form of Cara’s desire strapped securely to her hips. The tabletop is cool, firm marble to her cheek, to her breasts and her belly; the soles of Cara’s feet rest on cold tiles of stone. But her groin: the cheeks of her ass, her sex and the place inside of her that Kahlan is fucking into—these are all on fire.

Cara moans. Before she opens her eyes she knows she has an audience: they’re in Cara’s old home, the Mord-Sith temple where she was truly born. The long table is populated by her Sisters, their appreciative smirks fully focused on her abasement. Denna, Triana, Constance, and many others are bearing smug and silent witness to her domination by another. But Kahlan’s hands shift up and her fingertips curl and flex around Cara’s shoulders, holding her like a vice, and Cara knows she is possessed.

Kahlan pulls her back into every thrust, every drive into Cara’s cunt, and the blonde’s body bows a bit, her spine dipping. Kahlan holds her like that, arched and quivering under her, holds her arms rigid as her hips churn and grind against Cara’s. Cara is pliant. She is submissive. She is needy. Kahlan has never felt more powerful. The air around them is charged with something primal and dangerous, a raw bloodlust, and Kahlan won’t stop until it’s sated.

She looks down to where her sweat-slick body is meeting Cara’s own, from the tanned expanse of her back to where the tops of her own thighs are smacking loudly against Cara’s round ass. Suddenly she drives in deep and holds: pulls Cara closer to her, almost lifting her off the table. The blonde pants out a rough moan—she’s stuffed full and it’s almost like Kahlan has grown larger inside her—while Kahlan breathes deep at the burn in her own muscles.

She pulls free, emptying Cara of the phallus’ length bit by bit. Cara feels its absence like a pang of longing, of regret, and a soft whine leaves her throat. She lifts her ass, pleading, pushing up to the tips of her toes. Kahlan looks down and sees her desire like it’s written across her back. She strokes the phallus, slick-wet with Cara’s arousal, and raises it to sit against Cara’s ass. Their audience knows what’s next: there’s a slight, collective murmur rising from the braided Mord-Sith, and some sit forward eagerly. Kahlan pushes hard and firm and the rounded tip slips into Cara’s ass; she can nearly feel the tightness, but she can surely see the way Cara is stretching around her.

Cara’s arms fly from her sides: she grips the table’s sides and grits her teeth. Pleasure is blooming from pain and she lifts her head to keen as Kahlan drives the phallus deep. There is such control, such fierce and uncompromising will exerted, that Cara’s very breath is controlled by Kahlan’s slow, rough thrusts. Her asshole is filled and she exhales; Kahlan pulls nearly free and Cara breathes in. The burn of it is like a salve to her desire, like a promise that catharsis is imminent.

Kahlan watches, lips parted, watches as she fucks Cara’s ass open. She can drive it to the base: all of it in her and Cara’s body takes it, effortless and hungry. It seems that fucking Cara like this comes naturally, that she’s done this very act countless times before—sometimes rougher, sometimes not. Kahlan reaches out, finds a fistful of Cara’s blonde hair, and jerks back hard. Cara’s body snaps back in turn, and she yells out: Kahlan smiles loosely and starts to fuck into her like a wild beast might rut with its mate. She leans over Cara a bit, putting weight into her forearm across Cara’s back, holding her down. She yanks on Cara’s hair, assuring her face is up for all her Sisters to see. Kahlan knows Cara’s mouth is slack, knows her eyelids are fluttering, her cheeks flushed dark.

“Tell them who you belong to,” Kahlan says. “Tell them.”

Cara’s mind is hazed over by bright pulses of pleasure: every thrust into her ass accelerates her release and she can barely mutter, “You.”

Kahlan hisses in displeasure. She stands straight, yanks Cara up by her hair, pulls Cara’s body flush to her own. She wraps an arm tight around Cara’s throat while her other hand slips down between Cara’s legs. “Tell them,” Kahlan says again, calmly and between thrusts, “who owns you. Tell them my name, so they’re sure.”

Cara gasps, because Kahlan’s hips are still pumping that unforgiving length of cock in and out of her, because Kahlan’s arm tightens threateningly around her throat and she can’t breathe for just long enough to worry. “Kahlan,” Cara forces out, voice broken and strangled, and Kahlan’s fingers find her clit slick and swollen and begin to stroke. She sucks in a ragged breath. “I belong to Kahlan Amnell,” she says to her Sisters, willing strength into her speech because Kahlan has drained her of it. “She is…my Mistress.”

“Come,” Kahlan orders in a voice soft in the silence, “for me. Only for me.”

Her forearm presses to Cara’s throat as the paroxysm of her orgasm wells up and takes her. Kahlan drives the phallus deep and holds it there while her fingers stroke and drag against Cara’s clit. There’s nothing frantic or desperate, even though Cara’s lungs are starved for air. She trusts her Mistress. The deep throb in her groin resonates pleasure and Cara’s eyes open to tingling blackness. Her empty cunt spasms around nothing, but her asshole milks Kahlan’s phallus with every clench. Distantly, she wishes the thing were real: that she could feel warm seed dripping from her opened ass as Kahlan pulled out. Air floods her lungs, sweet and fresh, when Kahlan lets her free all at once. Her arms no longer support Cara as her phallus slides free in turn. Cara feels cold where Kahlan’s body was against her.

She collapses forward, boneless, empty, abandoned, sucking in breath after breath. There are murmurs of approval from the Mord-Sith lining the table. “Well done, Sister Kahlan,” says a voice above the others. “A most satisfactory display.”

Cara looks back over her shoulder. Kahlan is standing tall, naked but proud, her long, dark hair tightly braided behind her back. Her pale skin shines with sweat; every muscle and curve is strong in golden light. “But we’re not done,” Kahlan says lightly, motioning to Cara. The blonde scrambles to obey: she climbs onto the table’s top and lays on her back, upside down, her head hanging freely off the table’s edge.

Kahlan steps to her, eyes brilliant blue, lips curled up, and she strokes the considerable length of the phallus with her hand: pumps her fist up and down the shaft just like a man would. Cara opens her mouth invitingly and Kahlan sets the cock at her lips. Then she pushes into Cara’s mouth, slowly but surely: pushes into her mouth and watches a telltale bulge in Cara’s throat grow and grow, until Cara’s full lips are pressed to the base, to Kahlan’s leather harness. She watches Cara’s throat spasm, struggle to accept the intrusion. Kahlan pulls back and thrusts into her, hard. A loud, sucking noise fills the hall as Kahlan sets a harsh pace. The Mord-Sith watch her display of dominance with approval and a few raised brows.

Kahlan is fucking Cara’s throat as hard as she just fucked her ass, maybe harder: she only gives Cara breath enough to keep her conscious. Because she can get off from this alone, the sight of her cock bulging strong in Cara’s throat with every thrust. The exercise of such power over another floods her mind with pleasure acute in its own right. Cara is getting no pleasure of her own from this. She’s just submitting. She just wants what Kahlan wants to give her. Kahlan takes Cara’s breasts in her palms: slaps one roughly, again, and then the other. Twists her nipples just because she can. When her own orgasm rocks into her she plants her palms on either side of Cara’s chest to brace herself. Her hips stutter as she pushes, pushes, deeper, harder, and silently wills Cara to take it, just a little longer. After a shuddering breath of release, she slides out, emptying Cara’s throat and pulling free of her mouth.

For a second, Kahlan is uneasy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s been fucked to death within the walls of a Mord-Sith temple, but it would speak to a lack of control on her part. Then Cara coughs, turns to the side and heaves out saliva and bile, and focuses wide, green eyes on Kahlan.

There’s a heavy iron collar snapped shut around Cara’s neck, and a chain placed in Kahlan’s hand. Cara stands behind Kahlan, head bowed, ass burning and cunt aching and throat sore, while Kahlan speaks a few words of education and enlightenment as to the true ownership of a pet to her peers. Then she turns and jerks on the chain. Cara stumbles and then trots after her Mistress on weakened knees as they leave the hall.

There’s something about this stone corridor: it seems like there isn’t anything on the other side of these walls except an unshaped void. That these doors they’re passing open to nothing, that the temple exists in a time between times. But the cold iron around her neck, the adoration she feels when Kahlan looks to her and tells her she did well: those are solid, and real, to Cara.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Q: Why two versions? If you can swap characters' names like that, wouldn't that speak to weak characterization more than anything else?_
> 
> A: Normally I think so! But this fic, besides being plotless porn and thus easily given to a thing like that, was written with this in mind to some degree. I've always been fascinated by how similar Kahlan and Cara really are, and this was one way to explore how fluid their roles can be--in the bedroom or elsewhere.


End file.
